


Hard to Talk to Mycroft

by Dlvvanzor, Living_In_a_Fantasy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Demanding Sherlock, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Petulant Sherlock, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlvvanzor/pseuds/Dlvvanzor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_In_a_Fantasy/pseuds/Living_In_a_Fantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are having a mild row, and Sherlock loves the attention and the little tic John gets in his forehead when Sherlock is being extra annoying.  When John decides to take a phone call from Mycroft, however, Sherlock is less than pleased.  And he decides that John's attention should be returned to where it belongs.  On him.  Whether John hangs up the phone or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard to Talk to Mycroft

Sherlock sat very pointedly in the kitchen, pointedly drinking a cup of tea that he had pointedly made himself, and had pointedly not made for John.

 John huffed at him and Loudly made himself a cup of tea.

Sherlock primly ignored him.  They were having a row, but it was just a little one and they had them like this almost daily.

 John rolled his eyes at him and sat down, also loudly.

"No matter how loudly you sit down," Sherlock said airily, "we're not moving the sofa."

"I'm not speaking to you."

"You're poor at it."

 " _You're_ poor at it."

"I was never not speaking to you."

 "You weren't listening to me though."

"If this is not speaking to me, then what's speaking to me like?  It sounds like it would be insufferable."

 John growled.

"Better."

 "Do whatever you want. It's not as if I get a say in anything."

Sherlock observed his fingernails.

 John growled again and stood, going to his chair and leaving the tea behind. He glared at the sofa.

Sherlock smirked at his tea.  They were going to have such excellent sex that night.  They always did after rows.   John was glowering at the sofa.  He wasn't sure what it was about irritating John that turned him on later, but it always seemed to.  Sherlock slurped his tea loudly to be just a bit more annoying.

 John's teeth clenched at the sound.

Sherlock smirked and stopped.

 John glared at the wall.

Sherlock cheerfully sipped at his tea.

 John glared at various things, then glared at his phone when it rang. It as Mycroft. He glared at it more—Mycroft calling him was almost as annoying as Sherlock— before eventually answering it.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, disappointed.

"John," Mycroft said curtly.

 "Mycroft," John said back, just as curtly.

Sherlock's head shot up.

"I trust you are well."

 "What do you want?"

"Sherlock's behavior has changed, recently, and we need to have a discussion about it.  Is he in the room, presently?"

 "Why do we need to have that discussion?" John asked, sitting back.

"Because," Mycroft said, a frown leaking into his voice, "changes in behavior in a recovering drug addict are something that should be discussed between those who care about him.  And that list is rather short, wouldn't you agree?"

Sherlock scowled.  Mycroft was interrupting his plans.  He glared as John listened to Mycroft talk and talk and talk, probably about nothing of importance.  He stood up and stalked into the room, standing in front of John and looking down at him.

 John glanced up at him and went back to the conversation. "I'm not that worried."

Mycroft sighed.  "You're fighting with him, aren't you.  No doubt he's stormed off somewhere.  I _was_ hoping this could be a short conversation but that is looking more and more unlikely."

Sherlock's glare turned slowly into a smirk.  John didn't notice. "Why, exactly?"

"Because if you're angry with him at the moment, I'm going to have to first convince you that this is a conversation worth having..."

Sherlock crept closer and closer, until his toes were touching John's.

 John's eyes went back to him. "I actually do have a life outside of him."

"The conversation grows longer," Mycroft sighed.

Placing his hands on John's knees, Sherlock knelt down, eyes locked on John's.

 John watched him suspiciously. "Fine. Talk," he said to Mycroft.

So, Mycroft did.  Sherlock ignored this, however.  Or, rather, embraced it.  Mycroft's one flaw in terms of his abilities was that he was less observant while he was lecturing.  He didn't always catch the things that were happening around him.  Sherlock slowly, slowly slid his hands up John's thighs.

 John frowned down at him as Sherlock ran his hands _all_ the way up, then back down, along his inner thighs. What was Sherlock playing at?  He couldn't _seriously_ be thinking of...?

When he saw on John's face that he got it, Sherlock raised his eyebrows, very clearly saying _oh_ yes, he was.  He ran his hands back up John's thighs, squeezing occasionally along the way.

 John shot him a look that clearly said we-are-fighting-and-I-am-on-the-phone-with-your-very-observant-brother.

Sherlock placed one long finger against his own lips, then redirected it to John's zip, easily undoing it.

 Despite the multiple factors which should lead to him leaping up, John's body was already starting to react.  Sherlock blatantly reached into John's pants, removing his predictably soft cock, pumping it a few times, eyes never leaving John's.  John bit his lip. He was barely hearing Mycroft anymore, because his cock was taking a very intense interest in what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock wasn't worried.  He also wasn't in a hurry.  He knew that Mycroft would talk for at least twenty minutes.  That was more than enough time.  Continuing the gentle pump of hardening flesh, Sherlock used his other hand to fondle John's balls. 

"Have you noticed anything like that?" Mycroft asked.

 "Like what exactly?" John asked, forcing his voice to stay stable.

"Any strange sexual behavior.  Has he been bringing random men back to the flat?  Such sensation-seeking behaviors often indicate someone in the final stages before relapse."

Sherlock leaned down to kiss John's abdomen.

 John bit his lip, hard, before answering Mycroft. "No, no random men."

If Mycroft noticed the pause, he chose to ignore it.  He went on about the subject, giving John several signs of sexual activity to look out for while Sherlock tugged on John's jeans, implying that they needed to come down more and John needed to shift up.  Sherlock glanced up at his face.

"We can't," John mouthed, gesturing at the phone.

Sherlock pulled hard, forcing the trousers off the hard way.  Given more space now, he licked John's pubic bone, near the base of his cock, with one long, broad stroke of his tongue.  John forced himself to stay silent, automatically adjusting to give Sherlock more space.  Sherlock smirked at this.  He gave another lick, closer.

 John's hips jerked just slightly. Mycroft was still going on about triggers to watch for. John wondered if he'd notice if he hung up.

"Has he developed any fascination with sewing, or receiving stitches?"

Without hinting in his movements that he was about to, Sherlock abruptly sank his mouth down onto John's rapidly developing erection.

 John was unable to stop a surprised gasp from slipping from his lips, which he could only pray Mycroft thought was a sigh.

"Has he?" Mycroft asked sharply.

Sherlock chucked very, very quietly, tonguing the parts of John that were currently in his mouth, massaging his balls slowly, not moving his lips.

 "No," John managed, staring down at Sherlock with wide eyes and clutching his phone.

"John," Mycroft said firmly.  "Sherlock is not a 'happy' man, but he has been recently.  The way he is behaving now is indicative of drug use, I don't know how many times I need to explain this."  Staring up at John, Sherlock began to slowly bob his head.  "He hasn't been this way since he was on drugs in University.  Before that, not since before puberty.  I require your participation in this matter."

"I'm participating," John said tightly.

"I _realize_ that you're occupied at the moment, John.  If you would simply answer my questions in a timely manner, I'd be more than happy to let you return your full attention to your lady companion."

Sherlock made the slides of his mouth long and deep.

 Oh God, this wasn't happening. "Fine. Ask." His free hand went down to latch onto Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock nudged John's hand with his head, hoping to indicate what he wanted.   John had no idea because all his attention was going towards trying not to moan into his phone. God, that would be embarrassing.

"Has Sherlock asked you to do anything strange?"

Sherlock gave up on that, and instead sucked hard and bobbed faster, holding in his hand the parts that he couldn't fit into his mouth.

 John's hand in Sherlock's hair tightened. "Like what?"

"Wanted you to leave the flat at unexpected times?  Pick up anything strange?  Stranger than usual."

Sherlock scooted closer to the sofa, adjusting his body so that he could take more of John in without gagging.

 John slammed his head back against the chair, eyes slitting closed briefly. "Um, no." His voice was noticeably tight despite him trying to mask it.

"Good.  Has he been lying to you?  Or at least, are you under the impression that he has been?"

Sherlock moved his head at a brutal rhythm, claiming John's attention back where it belonged. John had angled the speaker away from his lips, hoping that was enough to hide the quiet, increased breathing he was having problems controlling. His hips jerked up, towards Sherlock, desperate to have him closer. Sherlock rarely gave blowjobs but when he did, _god_...

"John?"

 "What?"

"The question?" Mycroft sounded very annoyed.

 "Oh. No. No lying." Fuck, fuck he really needed to hang up.

"You know the tells, I presume."

 "Mhm." He could not come with Mycroft on the other end of the phone. He had to hang up. How angry would Mycroft be if he just hung up?

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and, all at once, pulled off and away.  John reached for him, staring at him with wide, unhappy eyes, but Sherlock had remained close, licked his lips, and pointedly raised an eyebrow.

John just stared at him for a moment. He couldn't be serious?

Sherlock licked the head of John's cock.

John jerked.

Sherlock sat back on his heels.

He was. He was really going to just _stop_. John watched him a moment longer before putting the phone back on his ear. He tilted the mouthpiece away but pressed the earpiece against his ear harder to emphasize he understood.

Sherlock gave him an impish smile and swallowed down John's cock, causing John to bit back a groan and let his head fall back.  Sherlock worked furiously at him, squeezing and sucking and massaging, never letting his gaze drift away from John's face.

"That may be all of the questions I have for you."

 It took all of John's conscious will to bring his voice into some semblance of steady. "Okay." His free hand clenched hard at the cushion.

Sherlock gave a long, slow pull of his lips, combined with a particular movement of his tongue.

"Well, I do have one other, come to think of it."

 Fucking _hell_ why wouldn't he just shut up? John huffed out a sharp breath. "What?" he managed.

"This woman who is fellating you at the moment.  Have you done a background check on her?  If she's been around your flat frequently she could be the cause of Sherlock's changed behavior."

 "I don't need a background check," he snapped because he really, really wanted to focus on Sherlock's perfect mouth and lips and tongue and Mycroft was _still talking_.

"Not to offend," Mycroft said, unaffected.  "I'm sure you have excellent taste in partners.  But the fact remains that if you don't, _I_ will have to obtain this background check.  I presumed you'd rather do it yourself.  Privacy or some such."

Sherlock hummed very, very quietly.  John sucked in a sharp breath. "Can we please talk about this later?" he asked tightly.

Sherlock stopped again.

 John turned betrayed eyes on him. He was still on the phone, wasn't he? He hadn't hung up.

"No.  This is the only time I can be sure Sherlock is not in the room and listening in."

Sherlock smirked and licked up the underside of John's cock before resuming the bobbing motion.

 Mycroft was an idiot and John hated him. He said nothing, spreading his legs slightly. He was so close and Sherlock kept _stopping_.

Knowing that a phone call, even with Mycroft, couldn't last forever, Sherlock went at John with a vengeance.

"So, will you be doing the check, or shall I?"

 "You," John challenged, though his voice certainly didn't come out particularly challenging. He was fighting to keep his breathing under control, because while Mycroft knew what was happening it was simply embarrassing for him to be listening. But he was starting to care a bit less about that.

Sherlock chuckled lowly when he felt John's sense of shame start to slip away.

"All right," Mycroft agreed.  "I'll need her name.  I could of course gather this information myself but previously you have objected to me 'stalking' you."

"You," John repeated, voice coming more breathless now. It had been Sherlock's idea not to tell Mycroft. So, let Mycroft find out who he was fucking. Fine.

"I, what, John?  You'd prefer I gather this information on my own, then?"

Sherlock placed a finger at John's entrance, prodding gently.

 "Yes," he said in response to both Sherlock and Mycroft, hips raising slightly.

"Hm."  Mycroft stopped to consider this.

Sherlock pressed just a bit harder, barely breaking the surface.

 John tilted the mouthpiece away again, breaths coming harsher. If he'd been able to, he would have begged for Sherlock, told him how close he was, how amazing he was. As it was, all he could do was sit there and hope Sherlock could see it in his face.

Sherlock, obviously, was very aware of this, and did a particular motion with his wrist, combined with one of his tongue and one of his finger, that he was fairly certain would tip John over, phone or not. It did. John made a valiant effort to not make a sound, but honestly wasn't sure if it worked as he was completely lost in the orgasm Sherlock had just ripped from him.

"Are you nearly finished?" Mycroft sighed, impatient.

Sherlock swallowed it down.  The moment it had stopped, he got to his feet and swaggered out of the room.

 John just blinked hazily after him.

"I can see where lesser minds are focused," Mycroft sighed.  "Fine, we will continue this conversation later.  Enjoy your fellatio."  He rang off without saying goodbye.

 Sure, now he took a hint. John groaned and hung up, dropping the phone to the floor.

Sherlock was making tea, looking pretty damn pleased with himself.  John tucked himself back in and stood, only slightly shaky, and went to the kitchen. 

Sherlock smugly ignored him.

 John didn't even know what to say. He just stood there, staring at him.  Eventually, Sherlock shot John a mischievous glance then returned to making his tea.

 "Why?" John asked finally.

"Can."

 " _Mycroft_."

"I know.  Imagine my irritation when you were talking to him instead of glaring at me.  The situation needed to be rectified."

 "How am I supposed to look him in the eye again?" John demanded.

Sherlock shrugged, unconcerned.

 John sighed and fell into a chair heavily.

Sherlock paused as he passed him on the way to the other chair, turning his head to give him a filthy kiss.  He straightened up.  "You enjoyed it."  He crossed to the other chair.

 John reached across the table for Sherlock's tea, taking a long swig before pushing it back. "Didn't," he denied, poorly.

"You _love_ that I can take you apart in under ten minutes even in the least sexy situation imaginable: Mycroft."

 "But he was listening to me."

"You think no one was listening to us in the toilets at the airport?"

 "No one we _knew_."

He hummed vaguely.  "You sure?"

 John shot him a suspicious look. "Should I not be?"

Sherlock sipped his tea.  "The point is, you believe you have shame, but you don't.  So you enjoyed that as much as I did, if not more."

 "Well then I hope Mycroft is suitably disturbed when he finds out it was you sucking me off."

Sherlock chuckled.

 "You're not funny," he complained. "You think you're so clever for it."

"Tell me, Three Continent Watson, has anyone ever done that to you before?"

 John reached for Sherlock's tea again. "Well, no."

Sherlock kept it away.  "I'm the one with the taste in his mouth, I get the tea," he scolded.  "And, there you go.  I _am_ clever for it.  With me, my love, you will never be bored."

 "Well I had to listen to Mycroft talking as you sucked me off, so..." John said, reaching for it again.

Sherlock conceded the tea.

 John pointedly finished the mug off and handed it back.

"You have two hours," Sherlock informed him, unaffected.

 John blinked at him. "Until?"

"Until I expect you to fuck me over this counter."  He pointed without looking.  "And if you don't, I'll do it to myself and make you watch."

 "I think I can get behind that plan," John said, nodding.

"That's rather the idea."  Sherlock stood and put the mug in the sink.  "Come and get me when you're..." he gave him another lingering look.  "Ready."

 John let his eyes travel slowly down Sherlock.

Pleased, Sherlock swaggered away.

John watched him go.  He was pretty sure it wouldn't take two hours.

 


End file.
